


To Catch a Thief

by bluetilo



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetilo/pseuds/bluetilo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex analyzes his relationship with Michael in a lonely night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Catch a Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the amazing and extremely kind foxriverinmate and my dear friend epilogo. Spoilers for all four seasons.

_I saw that you were wanted,_  
 _But not like I wanted you._  
 _And that’s when I knew I had to be with you_  
 _And that’s when I knew if I didn’t, I’d be through._  
 _To end my grief, I’d have to catch a thief._  
-To Catch a Thief, Lovage

There were no lights on in his hotel room, but the windows were open and the moonlight offered all the light Alex needed, which right now was barely any. He stayed there, sitting on the edge of the bed; the white linen sheets felt smooth under his skin. Alex couldn’t see much past the haze of cigarette smoke hovering in front of his face. He lifted his Kretek cigarette, which had been hanging in his right hand for the past few seconds, to his lips again and inhaled through his mouth one more time, breathing the sweet smoke, feeling it spread in his lungs and come out through his expanded nostrils.

He didn’t have an ashtray, so he let the ashes fall upon the marble floor. He probably wasn’t even allowed to smoke inside his hotel room. Fuck it, keeping his bedroom clean was not his primary concern now. His most important worry was… Well, he actually didn’t know. Perhaps the fact Gretchen was officially missing and most likely dead? The fact that he and Whistler were in possession of a card that was more valuable than both of their lives? That they had to break into a building and didn’t have a clue about how they were going to do it? Or perhaps… Because there was a palpable chance of seeing Michael just a few hours away.

They hadn’t seen each other for weeks. Since his departure from Panama, when Lincoln had tried to get him killed, with no time to get over their last argument. No time to talk, no time to discuss… No time to convince Michael to do all the things he did so well in the dead of the night, in a hot Panamanian prison cell. Alex smiled weakly at the memory.

He didn’t know if Michael was going to show up at all. “I have info on Sara” was good bait. After Gretchen’s desperate strike, in which Whistler had been skilled enough to play along, Michael would probably be getting hold of all kinds of vain hopes. Well, Alex wasn’t lying. Informing Michael that Sara was in fact dead was some kind of info.

He finished smoking his cigarette and got up off the bed, walking toward the open windows. The gentle summer breeze welcomed him. He threw the cigarette’s remains out into the open. He cracked his knuckles and took off his black tee-shirt, tossing it over the bed. He unbuttoned his pants and lowered the zipper, getting out of trousers and underwear with one motion. His feet were bare and the floor felt cold on his way to the bathroom. He turned on the lights for the first time that night. The water when he got under the shower, on the other hand, was warm and he groaned lightly at the relaxation. He had a quick shower and brushed his teeth, washing away the cigarette taste that tainted his mouth.

Soon enough, Alex was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. Everyday, before he fell asleep, his thoughts wandered. A few years ago, when he lay down in bed with Pam, he thought about his day, about how they met, about Cameron. Sometimes he thought of work and at dark and rare times, he thought of his childhood.

But ever since the Fox River break-out, Alex thought of Michael Scofield before falling asleep.

* * *

 

Alex obsessed over Michael from the moment he first saw his file.

He looked at Michael’s bright eyes and sat back on his reclining chair, in his office, late at night. Alex wondered about the man in the picture staring at him. The man who had made the whole escape possible, who was calm and steady enough to plan it all and actually make it happen.

The look in his eyes was challenging.

He usually saw convicts only when capturing them, but he wondered. If he was able to sense all the defiance in those eyes from a picture, he imagined what it would feel like to have this gaze upon him if they were standing in front of each other. He shivered lightly at the thought.

At first, it was only admiration.

He was fumbling through the pictures taken of Michael’s body at the tattoo parlor after he got all the ink done. Alex looked at the drawing for almost twenty minutes, following each line across his back, covering his entire chest, around his nipples… Trying to connect those tattoos to his profile. It didn’t seem to fit that a structural engineer would have such a taste in body art.

_English, Fitz and Percy._

The next day, when he figured out its meaning, Alex went to Michael’s apartment, and paced around for countless minutes. He could tell that the fellow agent there with him was getting bored beyond measure, but he didn’t care. He studied the place where Michael lived, attempting to find anything that could tell him what kind of man his prey was. Meticulous and acting according to an intricate method; a man with a style of his own. Alex walked around the loft, talking to himself, as if trying to mimic all of Michael’s steps, like reconstructing a crime scene. Like Alex wanted to embrace his mind and unravel each and every one of Michael’s hidden thoughts. Because then he’d no longer be a stranger to Alex. He’d be Michael, and they’d be intimate and Michael wouldn’t be able to conceal anything from Alex.

He found Michael amazing. Genius, marvelous, impressive and amazing.

For some time, when the manhunt Alex pulled off was just beginning, it was only him and Michael that mattered. Inwardly, by chasing him, Alex wanted to prove to Michael that he wasn’t alone, that someone actually understood the mechanics of his psyche. That they were the same and that the chasing was nothing but a game to Alex; an enticing game that Alex didn’t know if he wanted to or could win.

Unlike Alex’s previous chases, he and Michael did see each other before the prey was caught. But that wasn’t completely unexpected – Michael was not like anybody he’d ever known. The first time he got a chance to really look at Michael was at the courthouse. He had just understood the Otis Right riddle and felt proud of himself, because he’d been there for Michael no matter what the plan was.

Both Michael and Lincoln showed up in the elevator, but it had been Lincoln who did almost all the threatening – Michael was too busy staring at Alex, with a dazzled look on his face. He seemed cornered, scared and defiant. Michael didn’t look at all at his nephew; as a matter of fact, he never averted his eyes from Alex. Alex felt just as drawn to Michael as Michael was to him. Only he was confident, and for the briefest of moments he actually felt like smiling. And that day he also found out the fundamental difference between them: Michael was never going to be a killer.

It was only the first time they’d seen one another.

The second time, when they'd talked to each other, things were quite different. Alex’s favorite game was shattered. The Company had already made their first move in approaching him, demanding things, pushing him into a pursuit that left nothing but anguish, pain and dead bodies in Alex’s trail. When he answered that phone call in his office, everything was different.

He had been focusing for so many hours on finding out when and where Sara Tancredi and Michael’s rendezvous would be, that when his cell rang, he was startled. The ID caller read “Pam”, but somehow it seemed strange that Pam would call him that moment, even though she sometimes did when there was anything about Cameron she’d like to discuss. He flipped his cell phone open.

“Pam, I really can’t talk right now,” he said.

“Maybe I should call back”, he heard Michael saying, that soft tone in his voice. A voice he had heard just once, but it was more than enough.

Alex looked around as if he expected to find the man he was talking to lurking in the corners around him.

“Who is this?” He asked, but he knew he really didn’t have to.

Apparently, so did Michael. “I think you already know.”

“If you’ve done anything to Pam… Or my boy…” He was alarmed and tense when he got up and closed the door, looking outside his office.

“We both know your family is fine,” Michael said, unashamed of Alex knowing he wasn’t the kind of person who killed or hurt. He didn’t seem surprised at how well Alex knew him.

And then Michael blackmailed him using Oscar Shales, but Alex didn’t care much about the threats, regardless of the fact he denied every single one of Michael’s accusations. The Company had already made the same threats, even though they lacked the subtleness and low tone of Michael’s voice. Alex had too many worries and Shales was no longer his biggest issue.

But he let Michael play along, listening to his words like they were being whispered in his ears. Michael knowing he murdered Shales was fairly unimpressive; what struck him was the fact Michael knew exactly the way Alex felt about it.

“Take care of yourself,” he said with no signs of sarcasm in his voice.

If Alex hadn’t heard the rest of the conversation, he might actually think Michael meant it. He distantly thought of Gila circled on his map and shuddered to think that he’d probably see Michael again and, hopefully, or sadly, for the last time.

“I’ll see you soon, Michael,” he said, savoring the name in his mouth. “Oh, and Michael… It just may be sooner than you think.”

Two seconds later, Michael hung up.

* * *

 

It was going to be a sleepless night, Alex knew. Sleeping had become an issue lately. He never actually got to know if the inmates realized it, but it was only for a few the nights he slept alone at Sona. Falling asleep now without a warm body to touch was awfully difficult. Noticing his troublesome lack of sleep, Whistler had offered him pills, but Alex politely refused. The occasional nicotine had to be the hardest drug in his life from now on.

He tried hard not to give into the thoughts of some special nights he spent in Sona, because there were other horrible memories which were just as worthy to remember. They were painful and every time he thought about them, his heart shrank with anguish inside his chest. But he could never allow himself to forget them, allow his mind to go numb and block the memories out.

There was a point where he almost hated Michael. The exact point when the Company decided that threatening Alex about Oscar Shales wasn’t enough, the point when Bill Kim mentioned his son, Pam, all that was sacred to him. At that point, he blamed Michael. Why couldn’t he just fucking die already and let him get on with what was left of his life?

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his bed when he thought of all the things he’d done so the Company wouldn’t hurt Cameron or Pam. He thought of killing Aldo Burrows, he thought of the way he threatened and inflicted pain on a helpless man laying on a hospital bed just to get information on Michael, of how he almost killed

Lincoln and Michael in a car accident near the US border... And he thought of how all that only got his son’s legs broken in God knows how many places.

And then things got darker.

He killed Haywire after that. Oscar Shales was no more murdered than Haywire. As a matter of fact, what he did to Haywire was worse – inducing a mentally disabled man into suicide... Just like he did to Franklin, forcing the man into an attempt at killing himself. He hated himself for the kind of man he had become. And for too long all he did was blame Michael. Fascinating, annoying, too smart for his own good Michael.

Lying now on his stomach, clutching to his pillow, Alex was astonished to think about how long it took him to finally understand the obvious truth in front of his eyes. Michael wasn’t guilty, was never going to be. It was the Company, it had always been. And if it wasn’t for him and because of Michael, it’d be with millions of other people, who’d be as unfortunate as he was now. That’s why he forced himself to remember all the spiteful things he’d already done in his life, so he’d always remember it was the Company’s fault. Not Michael’s, not his. The Company’s fault. Only that way, bracing himself against the anger and pain in his heart, would he be brave enough to try to bring down the Company and risk his life like he was doing with Whistler.

The funny thing was that he realized that at the moment he was supposed to hate Michael the most… Right after Michael set him up, when he was spending his first night within the gates of Sona,

Only after burning that realization into his mind, did he allow himself to think of that prison in Panama. The gruesome memories and the mind-blowing pleasant ones.

* * *

 

All he was able to hear were screams and the rain water hitting the yard’s soil, turning it all into a giant puddle of mud. There was a foul stench of filth everywhere, which only got worse with all the heavy rain, like a wet and really dirty dog. There was a fight going on and all the men were watching it like it was a show and going wild about it.

Then he spotted Michael. Alex never thought he’d see him so vulnerable and disoriented. He had wide eyes, was as soaked as Alex was and avoided his sharp look, turning his back on him. Michael stayed around, watching the fight a few feet away, seeming mesmerized. Alex knew better, though. He left Michael to his own fortune and took advantage of the fact everyone’s attention was drawn to the fight and followed corridors and hallways, trying to get out of the rain. The only clothes he had were on his body and he already knew by now that he wouldn’t be getting any others. He searched for a place with no leaks and that didn’t seem already taken; it wouldn’t be wise to get into a fight just now. He was so tired that soon enough he found his winner, a friendly looking bench where he sat and fell into a restless sleep.

It was the spasms of his body that woke him up, along with the buzz of talking and wandering of Sona’s inmates. Everything sounded so loud in his ears… His mind felt dizzy and the thin layer of cold sweat that covered his body bothered him beyond measure. His hands seemed to move according to their own volition, twisting, scratching, and clutching his own fingers. He opened his pen for what seemed the fifth time in two minutes. He knew there was no more Varatril in it, but he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe one pill got stuck somewhere and that’s why it hadn’t fall on his palm yet. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, like trying to get a persistent dirt off his lips; his saliva was getting too thick and his mouth felt full, and he swallowed too many times.

He saw Michael in the hall above him. He looked at him, saw him walking and Alex instantly stood on his feet, going toward him. He didn’t think of what he was going to say, but, just like his hands, a part of his mind seemed to have gone frantic and just did stuff. Like walking, talking, pacing… It was like he wasn’t able to suppress certain impulses.

Michael tried to avoid him, but Alex didn’t let him get away.

“What do you want, Alex?” Michael asked like he was just ready to leave.

Alex didn’t like at all the shaky sound of his voice when he spoke. “You’re so clever…Planting drugs on the boat. Big irony! Law man in jail…”

Michael looked at him through half shut eyes, measuring him. “You’re exactly where you belong,” he said.

Alex’s body was spasmodic and he got closer to Michael when he spoke again. It seemed to him that everybody was paying attention to what they were saying.

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. That’s where you’re gonna help me. I’ll have a court date one of these days and you’ll be there! On the stand… And you’re gonna tell the truth, that you planted this… That you set this up.” Why Michael would do that he didn’t care to know. “And I’m gonna go home.” But he didn’t know where home was anymore.

“That’s funny. I could have sworn you set this up.” Michael approached him when talking and his breath was the first thing that ever smelled clean in this whole damn place.

Alex also noticed that his clothes were still pretty damp. Michael walked away, and Alex tailed along.

A man passed by them and Alex momentarily restrained himself, and then argued. “I set this up? I’m in here.”

Michael didn’t stop walking, but he answered anyway. “What does the Company want with me? Why Panama?”

Michael’s questions and his annoying need to know everything about anything got on his nerves.

“What? You think I know what they want?”

His harsh tone made Michael stop and look at him once more. He wanted to sound more natural, but his words were just frenetic…

“They had me. I did what they asked me to do. Arrest you in Panama and that's… That’s…” He wanted to finish his sentence, but the noise in his left ear was too loud. “That's old news.” He managed it. “This is the first day of the rest of our lives. How about we work together, you know? Help each other out?”

Michael stared at him for a moment before answering in a tone of voice that never failed to get to him. “Except every time I look at you, all I can see is the man who killed my father.” And then he whispered right in his face, “You’re on your own.”

He left and Alex couldn’t find the strength to go after him.

* * *

 

Alex gave up his futile attempt to sleep and got out of bed, placing both feet on the ground. He went to the small fridge in the corner and took a bottle of soda, taking a large sip. He sat down on bed again, drinking from the bottle and turned the TV on, switching channels without actually watching.

He thought randomly of Michael’s resistance to adapt himself to Sona. Like somehow he still thought he was somewhere things like honesty and truth mattered. In Sona, if you were honest, you were weak. And it took Michael his first fight to acknowledge that. Acknowledge, but not accept it nor comply with it, as he noticed later.

For a moment, when Michael hit the guy in the knee-cap, just like Alex had advised him, Alex really thought Michael had grown a pair. But then, after breaking the man’s neck with his bare hands, he realized Michael would always be same old Michael, who wouldn’t intentionally hurt a fly. And Alex detested that about Michael, because it made him feel dirty and evil for all the things he had done and was capable of doing. And he admired him for that too, because sometimes Michael brought out what was best in him and it didn’t matter if it was because Michael wanted to or because he was manipulating Alex, like he did to everyone around him.

He remembered Michael offering him his hand inside the sewers, when he had Whistler at his mercy.

“Let me help you, Alex,” Michael had said.

Strangely enough, Alex loved the way his name sounded from Michael’s mouth. Alex usually didn’t believe one word Michael’s mouth said, he only paid attention to the things his body language did, but every time Michael said his name, it was like the word carried a true feeling with it. Alex wasn’t able to tell what feeling this was, but it was powerful, nonetheless.

Alex finally got tired of switching channels and left the TV on some shopping channel. He finished drinking his soda, placed the bottle on the nightstand and went along with his memories. If he had been able to kill Whistler and get away from Sona, they wouldn’t be working together right now. And he and Michael wouldn’t… Wouldn’t have done a lot of things they did.

* * *

 

Doing heroin did strange things to Alex. Anguish, shaky limbs, sorrow… It all went away, leaving behind just a calm state of euphoria. And the strangest of all, almost funny perhaps, was that his five senses, specially touch and smell, didn’t feel like his own. It felt like they… Belonged to someone else. So when he swung the shiv hidden under his arm and stabbed the wall just beside Michael’s head, his arm didn’t actually feel the hit. He knew he just plunged the dagger to the wall, but it was like his brain didn’t register that.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized the fear in Michael’s eyes. He placed both of his arms over Michael’s shoulder for balance, but realized that increased his fear. Alex noticed the apprehension in Michael’s panting, in the way he breathed harshly trying to get control of his lungs. Alex took his time, waiting for his mind to decide what he was going to say. At the same time, he took advantage of Michael’s dazed state and placed his thigh between Michael’s legs, pinning him to the wall.

That wasn’t an erotic gesture, at least not intentionally; Alex was too fucked up to come up with anything remotely sexual. But he distantly knew he had Michael’s thigh trapped between his legs and that his own thigh was pressing on Michael’s crotch.

And then he said, “You are breathing only by my grace, Michael.”

He got closer to keep talking and his thigh rubbed lightly between Michael’s, their hips almost touching. He could sense Michael’s eyes going from the blade next to his head to Alex’s face. Alex saw the frown creasing his forehead and decided that he adored seeing Michael Scofield lose the damn attitude.

“Now you remember that the next time you’re gonna send me on a wild goose chase, okay?”

Michael interrupted him. “I didn’t…”

But he didn’t let him go on. He squeezed his thigh between his legs like a silent command to shut the hell up and said, “No, no, you did. And if you think you can manipulate me…” Alex tilted his hips toward Michael and saw him close his eyes when he did. “Just like you did Sucre, and Tweener, and Haywire…”

Michael’s eyes were uncertain and they moved randomly, looking downward to their entangled legs, to Alex’s face, to the blade… And Alex loved this new kind of control that left Michael so unstable.

“I’m not your errand boy. I’m gonna go with you when you escape. And if you think, in any way…” He stopped and couldn’t help laughing when he realized how powerful he was. “That you’ll leave me…” His hips were clashed together with Michael’s now. “I will put this piece of metal right in that…” He paused, as if thinking of where he’d put his friendly piece of metal. Then he saw Michael’s scared face and decided. “Very small space right between your eyes.” He pressed Michael softly against the wall again for reassurance. “I will.”

He took the knife out of the wall and backed away. He touched the concrete surrounding Michael’s form, like he was quickly memorizing Michael’s height and form. And then images of him watching pictures of Michael’s body for endless and entire nights reminded him he already memorized pretty much all of Michael’s form.

Just when Alex got to the cell's gate to leave, he saw the swelling in Michael’s pants that definitely wasn’t there when he'd first pinned him to the wall.

* * *

 

Alex turned the TV off and lay back on the bed again, the darkness once again filling the room.

He hated not being able to remember that first time they touched. He remembered what had _happened_ , but did not remember the most important part of it. How Michael smelled, what the feeling of having their thighs locked up for the first time felt like. He didn’t even remember feeling Michael’s erection before he saw it.

But then again, if he wasn’t suffering from detox and hadn’t taken a heroin shot, he probably wouldn’t have approached Michael the way he did. Because he was a straight man. Had always been. He found Pam beautiful and liked having sex with her. So, if he wasn’t completely high, he probably wouldn’t have thought that getting that close to Michael and locking their thighs together was a casual thing to do when threatening someone. He just got impressed with the power it gave him, touching Michael like that. At that precise moment, besides making sure he was going to get out of Sona, all Alex wanted was to keep him off balance.

But when the last effects of the heroin shot wore off, realization hit him like a punch. Michael had an erection when being confronted by him. And Alex couldn’t tell, couldn’t remember anything besides blatant moves. He could not read Michael because he did not remember what Michael felt like. He knew Michael would most likely ignore him or pretend it didn’t happen, but Alex couldn’t let him. It was far too great a weapon against Michael.

That day Alex decided never to use it again. Not heroin, not Varatril, not even getting fucking drunk on New Year’s Eve. Because if something like that ever happened again, he’d be ready to tear away from Michael everything that would give Alex control over him.

* * *

 

It was late at night, probably around 2 am. Almost all of the inmates were inside their cells, or lying in their corners. The sun rose too early and it was too hot to sleep in the morning, so most of them went to sleep in the first hours of the night. The hallways were empty when Alex passed through them with silent steps. He reached the far end of the corridor and saw Michael standing on his bed, looking out the window. Alex stayed in the shadows and watched. Michael seemed to be throwing something out. Then he heard a gun shot, but Michael didn’t seem too distressed. Then he sat down on the bed again, his elbow resting on his knee and finally saw him.

Alex walked toward him with silent and slow steps. He stood by the cell’s gate and leaned against it. He had left his jacket under his mattress in his own cell; after he had broken that guy’s neck and been the first one to find Whistler, he held some respect and the inmates didn’t steal any of his belongings. The shiv was carefully hidden in the waist of his trousers, concealed from Michael’s sight.

Michael just looked at him and then turned his eyes away from him, facing front.

Then Michael was going for Plan A, ignore Alex.

“What? Not gonna ask me what I want this time?” Alex smiled weakly when he said it.

He noticed the tension in Michael's body as he sat on the bed. He briefly hid his mouth with his hand and looked at him.

“If it will make you get back to your cell…” He said with resignation, took a deep breath and then went on. “What do you want, Alex?”

“Oh, what I _wanted_ …” He paused deliberately, trying to work out Michael’s enigmatic face. “Was to apologize for… Scaring you earlier today.”

Michael pulled both legs to the top of his bed and stared at him. “We both know you meant every word you said, Alex.”

“Oh, you’re right about that, but…” He measured his words, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t wanna apologize anymore.” His words were drawling; his body and mind still in the aftereffects of his heroin shot.

Michael ran his hands over his scalp, looking kind of desperate. “Then what do you want, Alex?”

“What I want…” He said and paused again. When he was certain that Michael’s eyes were on him, he finished, forcing the words out of his mouth. “Is to know if you get a hard-on every time someone threatens your life.”

He saw Michael’s eyes doubling their size. Shame, perhaps? Disbelief that Alex would be brave enough to mention it? Anger? A mixture of all three, Alex decided. He waited for an answer, for a reaction, for harsh words to come out. But Michael only stood up slowly and approached him.

They were standing half a foot from each other, the inebriating smell of Michael’s sweat filling up his nostrils, when Michael whispered into his face, “Get out of my sight.”

His words were slow and Alex could sense the hint of a threat hanging in there. He didn’t answer and didn’t move. He just stared deep into Michael’s eyes, trying to decipher what was hidden behind that impenetrable expression. Alex thought of the dagger in the waist of his jeans, but didn’t reach for it. Maybe some other time…

He turned his back on Michael and walked away, just in time to hear his breath relaxing again. He hadn’t noticed Michael was holding it in.

* * *

 

Alex rose from bed again and went to pee. He washed his hands afterwards, then went back to bed. He already knew by now he wasn’t going to sleep, but it didn’t matter. Thinking that deeply about the past had its advantages; only by analyzing it all would he know how he was supposed to act around Michael tomorrow. So he kept thinking, kept remembering.

* * *

It was true that he had decided not to do any drugs after his confrontation with Michael. But between making a promise and keeping a promise, there was a long hard road. So when T-Bag offered him one more shot, even though he had no money, he just wasn’t strong enough to refuse. One last shot wouldn’t make anything worse than it already was.

So he hid in his cell, sitting on his bunk, and got the shot ready, first boiling it on the spoon and then using the syringe to get the reddish liquid off the spoon and into his vein. It was like pushing something deliciously cold up his arm and it was amazing how fast it hit his brain. He ran his fingers over his own thighs, enjoying the isolated feeling of a shiver running down his spine. It was in that state that he saw the guard drinking from a cup fashioned the same way as the cup he found.

When the COs came in later that day, searching for a supposed gun, the aftereffects hadn't worn off completely, so Alex's biggest worry, kneeling on the ground of Sona’s yard, was not falling. His knees felt like butter and his mind was spinning and he was focusing so hard not to fall that he almost didn’t catch the time Michael said the cell was his. And then Whistler said that no, it was his, made some story up and soon the COs went away and that was all that mattered to him, so he could finally take the weight off his knees…

But when the sun was setting, he realized that there was something else to worry about. Michael’s cell had been locked up when the guards came in. That meant they no longer had an exit point, but it also meant that Michael had nowhere to sleep.

Alex shared a cell with Whistler, but he was alone when he saw Michael approaching through the sheets hanging over the gate. When Michael noticed he was alone in the cell, Alex could see the awkwardness in his features. It almost seemed like he was going to turn around and go away, but he slowly opened the gate further with a touch of his fingers and carefully stepped into the cell. Alex was lying on his stomach on the thin mattress and didn’t bother to stand up. He eyed Michael instead.

“Where’s Whistler?” Michael asked point blank, his hands on his hips, staring down at him.

“He’s off… Somewhere.” Alex tried to remember where Whistler said he was going. “Oh, he said he was going to the _men's room_.” He couldn’t help laughing at the words.

Michael seemed annoyed with his laughter, but he went on.

"Men's room…” He giggled once more. “Like there is such a thing as a men's room here…” His arm was hanging from the bed and he traced circles with his index finger on the dusty floor.

“Is he gonna take too long?”

Michael was shifting his weight from foot to foot and, from the look on his face, Alex could almost hear the thundering in his chest. He didn’t answer Michael’s question and kept making his circles on the ground. That seemed to annoy the hell out of Michael and he was almost leaving when Alex spoke.

“I know why you’re here.” His voice was low, almost a purr, and it made Michael turn around to face him.

“Do you, Alex?” Michael was frowning again, his eyes barely open, focusing hard on Alex. “I think you don’t know the first thing about what I’m doing here.”

Alex finally got off his stomach and sat on his bunk, bringing his knees close to his chest. He looked at Michael piercingly. “Oh, we both know you came here because you wanna sleep here with me…” He stopped on purpose for less than a second. “And Whistler, because the guards locked up your cell. So relax, Michael. You’re the brains here, so don’t lose it, okay?”

Michael didn’t answer, but he stepped back in the cell and pushed the gate closed.

Alex stood up and pulled Whistler’s mattress off his bunk. In fact, he had two mattresses, but they were so thin that he and Alex had agreed he could take both. Alex separated the two and threw one on the floor, placing the other back on Whistler’s bunk.

“There. But I’m afraid we don’t have any spare sheets. But you can take one off the gate, if you feel like it.” He said and sat back on his bunk.

Michael remained standing. “No, I’d rather have our privacy”, he said and quickly added, “ours and Whistler’s, I mean.”

Alex said nothing and lay on his back, staring at the dirty bottom of the top bunk. He watched Michael out of the corner of his eye; Michael hadn’t moved yet, his eyes still staring at the gate.

“Does he always take this long? Shouldn’t we go look for him?” Michael said, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb. He seemed tense while doing it.

“Sometimes, when his girlfriend gives him money, he buys booze and gets wasted. You don’t have to worry about Whistler.”

Michael looked briefly at him and rolled his eyes. Then Alex saw Michael wasn’t worried about Whistler. He just didn’t want to be alone near Alex.

“Relax, boy. It’s not like I’m gonna jump on you in the middle of the night and slit your throat wide open.”

If he thought that would make Michael calm down, he was wrong. The air got thicker and thicker with uneasiness, but, eventually, Michael sat down on the mattress lying on the floor. The noise in the halls outside their cells was dying slowly. The corridor was dimly lit by a yellow lamp, but the sheets were hanging so almost no luminosity got inside the cell.

Finally, no sound could be heard. Sleep was sacred in Sona and no-one would be stupid enough to bother another inmate’s sleep. Alex didn’t feel like sleeping yet, but he stayed in bed. Boredom was Sona’s actual ruler, not Lechero, and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He didn’t have anything better to do, so Alex stared at Michael.

Michael was lying on his back, chewing on a nail, the other arm folded under his head. He faced the ceiling, but didn’t pay attention to it, lost in thought. Alex didn’t know how much time passed while he observed Michael. It could have been minutes, hours, weeks or days… It didn’t matter. Watching Michael chased the boredom away. He remembered the time he did nothing but study Michael’s thoughts and Michael’s body. He remembered the photographs of his torso and wondered how it’d be to stare and touch the drawing on Michael’s body. Probably like looking at pictures of the Mona Lisa and admiring the painting itself. Alex longed for that. He longed for Michael, for merging himself with Michael.

It was getting hotter. It was a hot night, even by Panamanian standards; he could feel the air sultry, sticky. The sweat was sticking Alex’s tee-shirt to his chest and his pants scratched and felt uncomfortable around his thighs. He quickly pulled his tee-shirt over his head, and it instantly felt less warm. He unbuttoned his trousers, lowering the zipper and raised his hips, taking off his pants as well, staying only in his boxers. He folded his clothes and placed them under his head, a poor excuse of a pillow. When he turned his head, Michael had his eyes fixed upon him.

It was too dark and he could distinguish Michael’s form, but not the details of him. He didn’t know how well Michael could see him, if Michael had been paying attention to him or just had his head in his direction. He didn’t know any of it. But it didn’t matter when his blood started boiling in his veins at the exact moment Michael sat up and pulled his gray sweater over his head. At that moment, Alex would have given anything to be able to actually see what Michael’s body looked like. All he could get were hints of his skin and tender muscles and bones and ink and sweat that seemed delicious. Alex wanted and ached for more. And Michael gave him more.

Turning his face to him every once in a while, Michael pulled his pants down, kicking away his shoes at the same time. When he brought his thighs against his chest and removed his socks, Alex was mesmerized by his legs. Alex caught a glimpse of the hair on his thighs, thin and almost invisible. Alex suddenly felt the urge to touch his legs and see how they felt against his hands. Michael placed his clothes under his head, just like Alex had, and faced the ceiling again, closing his eyes.

Alex closed his eyes too and adjusted the bulge in his crotch, rubbing it slightly before lying on his stomach. Once his head hit the pile of clothes, he thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but only minutes later he had his eyes closed. Not sleeping, he didn’t sleep that easily. It was just a nap and when he woke up, he didn’t exactly know how much time had passed. He noticed Whistler was back in their cell and judging by the steady rhythm of his breath, he was asleep.

Then he looked at the mattress lying on the floor, less than two feet away from him. Michael was lying on his stomach now and Alex was too aware of his round, impossibly high buttocks; the thin white fabric of his underwear revealing its shape to Alex’s greedy eyes. Alex’s breath was almost inaudible as he watched Michael squeezing his ass against the mattress, slow and hard, definitely pressing his hips against it. And he did it again, and again, the motion had its own unhurried cadence.

Alex wouldn’t have been able to turn his eyes aside from Michael even if he wanted to. His eyes went all the way down Michael’s tattooed torso, from his nape to the small of his back, and his mouth felt at the same time incredibly dry and filled with saliva. There was a thin line between his tattoos and the waist of his underpants, and it gave away the sight of the crack of Michael’s ass. Alex wanted to dip his fingers there.

Alex saw how Michael roamed his right hand under his own body and touched himself. Alex couldn’t tell exactly where from where he was, but he didn’t need to know. He couldn’t get any harder than he already was and his imagination could fill the blank. Michael was moving his hips in circles and each move made Alex want to sink his teeth into the plump cheeks of his ass.

A second later, Alex could swear he heard a stifled moan, choreographed in time with a special move of Michael’s arm. Alex almost moaned with Michael, but he only squeezed his own cock, biting his bottom lip hard. Alex was fighting the urge to take his cock out of his pants, when Michael turned aside, moving slowly and lying on his back, holding a huge erection, covered by his underwear.

Alex took a few seconds to stare at the luscious length of Michael’s thick cock, stretching the cotton of his underwear, which was probably damp by now, before looking at his face. Michael’s eyes were wide open staring at him and shame was written on his features. Alex felt like a pervert by the way Michael’s embarrassment seemed alluring to him.

Michael immediately got on his knees and fumbled around the cell, his fingers shaking, probably trying to gather his clothes that were now scattered around the floor. It was remarkably easy for Alex to make the decision. Trying to be soundless, he reached out for Michael, stepping out of bed, touching him on his shoulder. Michael tried to avoid the touch of his hand, moving his shoulder away, but Alex knelt next do him and held him in place. Alex touched Michael’s face and saw the way he quivered at the simple stroke. Michael was frozen on the spot, not moving; Alex wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Alex didn’t know what Michael expected or wanted him to do, so he did what he'd wanted to do for a long time. He touched Michael’s cock, going past the elastic band of his underwear, feeling the thick flesh trapped between his fingers and he squeezed, experiencing the so far unknown sensation of having a different shaped warm cock in his hand.

It was exhilarating. Apparently, Michael thought so too. He closed his eyes and a low moan escaped his lips. Alex swallowed that moan, his own lips clashing with Michael’s, taking in any protests Michael might have. Michael struggled against the kiss for a second or two, but then Alex offered him one long stroke, from the base to the head of his prick, and Michael no longer resisted. His mouth went limp and his teeth offered space for Alex's tongue. Alex guided him back to the mattress and made both of them lay on it, still kissing Michael, still savoring his wet fat tongue. Alex laid down next to Michael, bending his thorax over him.

The stroking on Michael’s cock was slow and firm and every time Alex pulled on it, drawing the foreskin back, exposing the smooth swollen head, and covering it again, he could feel Michael’s hips following the move, almost thrusting into Alex’s hand, almost begging him to go faster. Alex sucked on Michael’s lips, licking the edges, teasing Michael’s mouth to take action in the kiss, but he didn’t. Michael didn’t fight him, but didn’t respond either.

Alex let go of his grip on Michael’s cock and just caressed the tip of it, taking the pre-cum that leaked from the slit and spreading it all around the head. Michael’s breathing caught instantly and he got a grip on Alex’s shoulder, his whole body convulsing. And Alex went on teasing, preventing himself from just getting between Michael’s thighs and going down on him, because he was dying to know what that pre-cum tasted like… He went on teasing until Michael gave up and kissed him back, fierce and brutal, his teeth biting Alex’s lips and sucking Alex’s tongue into his mouth, as if he was angry for what he was doing.

Alex jerked Michael off hard after that, pumping his cock like he wanted to make him come in that very second. He wished he was able to cup Michael’s balls and roll them between his fingers, but to do so he’d have to change positions and that meant letting go of Michael’s mouth and he definitely wouldn’t do that. Michael was moaning softly against his mouth and Alex prayed for Whistler not to wake up.

Alex was making Michael surrender, like he'd always dreamed he’d do. And after that Michael wouldn’t be able to hide anything from him, just like he wasn’t able to hide he was about to come at any moment. His own cock was about to burst and Alex hadn’t even touched it yet, but Michael's voice against his skin drove him wild and he was desperate to know how Michael would moan when he came.

So he jerked him harder, pretty much like he’d do to himself, and finally let go of Michael's mouth, moving down to his neck, right where he felt the rapid pulse of blood, sucking and biting on the spot. Alex could feel Michael’s cock twitching in his hand, and Michael’s nails going up his arm and digging into his skin and the labored breathing in his ears; Alex loved every second of it when Michael came, pouring his hot seed in Alex’s fingers.

Alex squeezed his cock until the last spurt was out and spread cum all over Michael’s cock, sensing him quivering with caresses on his hyper-sensitive prick.

After torturing Michael enough, Alex let go of his spent penis and pulled his own cock out, stroking at once, fondling his sac with one hand and jerking himself off with cum covered fingers. He closed his eyes and gave into the feeling of pleasure building up in his groin, welcoming the orgasm that surely would come. He spread his legs and thought of Michael going down on him, sucking his cock, nibbling the head and enjoying it. Alex thought of fucking Michael’s mouth like he never fucked anyone’s mouth before, because he was straight and was always afraid of hurting the women he slept with. He thought of Michael deep-throating him and he jerked off harder, faster, and when he came in his palm, he imagined he was coming down Michael’s throat and that Michael swallowed it whole and licked him clean after that.

He stopped touching himself, giving his cock a final stroke, and cleaned his hand on the fabric of his underwear. Alex finally opened his eyes and noticed Michael lying next to him, eyes wide and lips parted. His cock was half hard in his pants. Alex just smiled and crawled back to his bunk, laying on it and sleeping at once.

The next day, Michael was strange. It didn’t surprise Alex; he didn’t expect Michael to wake him up with breakfast in bed and confessions of an undying love, but he never expected Michael to become so distant. He talked to Alex, at least occasionally. He informed him of things he already knew, like the fact they needed another exit point. Michael avoided Alex’s eyes, like he was trying to give him all Alex needed so he’d just go away. Michael barely looked him in the eyes, keeping Whistler with them all the time.

Later that day he got a visitation from Agent Lang. He had never realized how loyal she was, as a co-worker in the FBI and as a friend he didn’t even know she was. When she offered the deal, it didn’t sound too appealing to him. He might be able to get out in less than two hours and Michael wouldn’t let him down, would he? Michael had broken T-Bag and Abruzzi out of Fox River, so he wouldn’t be such a bastard as to leave him behind. Alex didn’t know anymore if last night's events had improved or worsened his situation with Michael.

He left Lang alone and came back to the cell he was now sharing with Michael and Whistler. Shortly after he returned from the visitation, the word about the new guy’s death was out and Michael seemed too fond of believing he was guilty. Alex could try to explain and prove he had a visit and wouldn’t have the time to kill that man, but it didn’t seem like Michael would believe him. Actually, it seemed like he wanted so badly to get away from Alex that he’d let Lechero have his justice over his head, even though they both knew Alex didn’t do it. Anyway, he didn’t have the time to ague about it with Michael, because Papo, Cheo and Sammy walked in, grabbing Whistler and dragging him to Lechero’s quarters.

And after that everything collapsed too fast. A shiv hidden in his bunk and all of a sudden his life was at stake because Michael was about to incriminate him for something he hadn’t done. Alex didn’t know what came over Michael. He had expected awkwardness, denial… Fuck, he was feeling kind of strange too, since it was the first time he had another man’s dick in his hand, but he didn’t think the initial discomfort would lead to his own death.

So when Lang and Sullins came back that afternoon, he didn’t think twice before going with them to this so called deal. Before leaving, he gave Michael one last look, thinking of his gasps and his thick cock throbbing in his hand the night before and the way he writhed when Alex’s lips kissed him and wasn’t able to connect it at all with that anger. Then he just faced front, raising his arms, happy to be walking toward civilization and out of Sona.

* * *

 

When Alex finished reliving his first time together with Michael, he was half hard. He put his hand inside his underwear, and idly touched his cock and it hardened further against his palm. He took his hand out again, licked his palm and put it back inside, touching himself again. Not quite masturbating, just stroking, and enjoying the soft stirring. He was going to take his time.

* * *

His testimony was a complete failure. Detox was killing him, his hands were shaking and he sweated like he was in the desert, not in a courthouse with the AC on. He couldn’t gather his thoughts together, wasn’t able to answer one thing at a time and his inane babbling didn’t qualify as proper evidence of a supposed mob organization. He was back at Sona in a short while.  


On the way back, his suit uncomfortable and his tie too tight around his neck, all he could think was that Michael would be far gone in his escape by now and that he was going to spend the rest of his life in that hell hole. But then Agent Lang gave him the coin that belonged to her father and it wouldn’t make his life any easier, but her faith in him meant a lot to Alex. 

On the way back to Sona, Alex saw the odd iron cage sealed with wide plastic strips all around it, leaving only a small area open for air. Michael was inside it. They hadn’t escaped and Michael was being harshly punished for something. He highly doubted that Lechero would have that power, so whatever it was that Michael had done, it was big enough to affect the guards outside. Their eyes met and Michael didn’t avoid him this time. As a matter of fact, Alex could see and sense his gaze on him all the while until he was inside the gates of Sona again. 

Inside, he heard of what happened from the McGrady boy. All about the escape attempt, helicopters flying, the shooting and all the dead bodies. And it seemed Michael was the center of everything. He also heard about Whistler’s and Michael’s alleged fight and that  _Sara was dead_. Alex didn’t know how that would affect the escape. Ever since Alex threatened him with the dagger, Michael was becoming more and more an enigma. Michael’s sexual responses and instincts were something completely new to him. 

The hours passed and Michael still burned in that cage. Alex didn’t know how long a human being could endure the heat. There was no way out. An yet, apparently, there was. Michael was out and into the staff building, escorted by the general and a bunch of guards. A while after that, Whistler was brought there too and there were rumors spreading all around Sona. Alex didn’t care about listening to them and rushed to his former cell, trying to make sure it was still theirs when Whistler and Michael got back. Then it dawned in him –  _if_  they got back. 

Altogether with the detox, came desperation. T-bag offered him another shot. But he thought of Lang, of Cameron, and even of damned Michael. He distantly thought of the spasms in his body. They’d never stop; they’d just become milder at every shot he took, until he died an addict in Sona. And he didn’t want to die. Not like this, not here. And, most of all, he didn’t want to feel sorry for himself the way he felt at the courthouse, the way he felt when Agent Lang looked at him with sorrowful eyes. 

So he said no, even when T-Bag pushed him to the ground, kicked him and spat harsh words. His limbs were shaky but he hung on. It’d pass, it had to pass… 

He dragged himself back to his bunk and got under the sheets, wrapping his body, trying to make the shivers stop. It seemed to be calming down and his head wasn’t hurting that badly when he heard Whistler rushing back to their cell and sitting on the mattress that Michael had slept on the previous night. Alex felt sleepy and didn’t feel like talking, so he stayed there, resting. 

A short while after that, he heard Michael’s voice. He and Whistler were arguing about a woman named Gretchen. Michael said Whistler let the fox get in. Alex figured that Michael mustn’t have realized Alex was there, since he was the kind of man who would keep secret the ingredients of his lunch. After that he left and Whistler stood in the cell only for a few minutes before he left too. Alex fell asleep and woke up several times. He thought he heard one of them entering and leaving sometimes, but he didn’t care.

The night fell quickly and Alex felt a bit better when he woke up again. The shivers had stopped for good and it was beginning to get hotter again. He put the sheets away, but stayed with his clothes on; it didn’t feel appropriate to take them off before everyone was asleep or going to bed. Whistler and Michael came back again, almost at the same time.

Whistler jumped up to his bunk and it didn’t take even a minute before the room was filled with the sounds of his snoring. Michael looked at Alex and nodded, greeting him. Alex raised his eyebrows back and Michael just laid down, with his hands folded under his head, staring at the ceiling. Alex wondered what Michael might want to say to him. There were so many unspoken things. It was quite impossible that Michael didn’t have an opinion about their intercourse. Michael liked it, at least his body did, and Alex was sure of that; he still had the feeling of his come between his fingers, the undeniable evidence. But liking it didn’t mean he wanted to do it again. And Alex definitely wanted to do it again.

Eventually it seemed like everyone was sleeping or trying to – even Michael had his eyes closed -, so Alex did what he used to do every night to cope with the heat: he stripped and folded his clothes, placing them under his head. Michael didn’t mimic his act. In fact, he wasn’t paying attention to Alex at all, lying on his side, facing the wall away from Alex.

Alex had already decided nothing was going to happen that night and was trying to sleep when he heard the sobbing. He looked at Michael, who had his face hidden from his sight. It had been a muffled sound, like someone was trying to conceal the fact that someone was crying. Alex wasn’t too good at displaying emotions and he was worse at reacting to other people’s emotions. He didn’t know what to do, if he should just keep quiet or go to him and ask him what was wrong… Especially since Michael probably wouldn’t want to be seen crying.

But against all odds, he reached for Michael and touched his arm. Michael did turn around to look at him, which caught Alex off guard. He thought Michael would struggle and tell him to get lost. But he just turned around and faced him. Alex was struck to see him that way. He wasn’t openly crying like a child would, but the tears rolling off his face were too profuse to be ignored. The profound expression of grief in Michael’s eyes made Alex awkward like he was the one caught weeping in his pillow.

“She’s dead, Alex.” That was all Michael said to him, just a whisper.

Alex didn’t need further explanation. The current situation being as it was, Michael didn’t have proper time to mourn Sara’s death. And when it kicked in, it was extremely powerful for a man as rational as Michael was.

Then he invited Michael onto his mattress with a gesture, offering him space. He was pretty sure Michael wouldn’t accept it, but he did. He watched Michael crawl to his bunk and lay next to him. He didn’t know what he should do, so he did what he wanted to do. He embraced Michael, tightening him between his arms, whispering in his ear that everything was going to be okay. He felt the clothed back of Michael against his naked chest and his buttocks against his crotch and a strong desire came over him, but he didn’t give in. It didn’t feel right to take advantage of Michael just yet.

They stayed that way, Alex surrounding Michael in his arms for some time with his lips next to Michael’s nape. And after a while he realized Michael wasn’t crying anymore, but he didn’t get off the bunk. He stayed there and Alex’s mind felt numb as he was surrounded by Michael’s particular smell. Not the disgusting smell Sona had that impregnated everything and everyone. Alex smelled past that. It was the sweet and salty smell that emanated from Michael’s skin and that made Alex want to taste his skin again so badly.

Everything went deadly silent for what seemed half an hour to Alex. He almost thought Michael had slept there with him. But then he felt Michael’s ass moving toward his groin. It was a small but undeniable move. And Michael did it again, tilting his hips against Alex’s hips. Alex released a deep breath. He was half hard by being there in bed with Michael, but now his cock had sprung to full life and he felt too big in his boxers. He pushed slowly and carefully against Michael too and felt his shy response. Alex felt how his cock seemed to fit exactly between Michael’s cheeks and got mesmerized by the way their bodies fit together as if they were pieces of a puzzle. He felt like his body belonged there with Michael’s.

He didn’t know how he managed to go through fifty years of his life without having such a feeling.

Their motions got more deliberate. He placed one hand over the side of Michael’s thigh and pressed, and all the time he was aware of Michael’s reactions. His hand roamed slowly from Michael’s hip to his crotch. Michael didn’t fight this time when he grabbed his stiff prick through the denim of his pants. Instead, he exhaled slowly and rubbed his hips against Alex one more time. Alex almost moaned, but managed not to by hungrily licking the back of Michael’s neck.

He searched for the button and zipper of Michael’s pants, at the same time he pulled his own cock out. He hoped damned Michael wouldn’t tell him to stop just now, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to obey. He popped the button open and lowered Michael’s fly, and his hand touched Michael’s cock, feeling the curls at the root of his prick tickling his fingers, and turning him on. He lowered Michael’s pants and underwear to the middle of his thighs and reveled in the feeling of Michael’s buttocks brushing against the head of his own cock, sliding above the crack of Michael’s ass.

Alex never had had sex with another man. He had never given it any thoughts, blocking away the gruesome memories of his childhood. But he knew the mechanics and right then he knew that wanting would guide him through the process. So he let go of Michael’s prick, drawing out a discontented sigh from him. Alex touched one of Michael’s ass cheeks, lying down behind him all the time. Alex noticed the shiver that ran down Michael’s body at the touch, but he went on, spreading his buttocks. It was almost completely dark and he couldn’t see it very well, so Alex decided to use his other senses. His index finger moved between his cheeks, but Michael’s hand touching his arm stopped him, turning his head toward him.

Only then did he notice how tense Michael was, his brow frowning and all his muscles clenched tight. Alex couldn’t help thinking of some other muscles that’d be clenching tight too.

“I never did this before,” Michael told him, his voice even lower than usually was.

Alex had suspicions about that, and was in the middle of an inward debate if he should try to convince him, when Michael added, “But don’t stop.”

Alex’s heart melted when he heard it and he crushed his lips to Michael’s, choking him with his own tongue while dipping his finger between Michael’s cheeks, caressing his ring. He was excessively aware of everything about Michael; the way Michael kissed him back, moving against him, the soft way they clutched at each other, Michael’s fingers distractedly pressing his nipples, and how every single one of Michael’s touches went straight to his cock. And they weren’t sideways anymore; Michael was on his back and Alex was between his legs and somehow Michael’s pants and underwear lay scattered on the floor, leaving him only in his long sleeved tee-shirt.

Alex felt like he was diving into hot water when Michael raised his legs and crossed them around his back, drawing him closer. His finger still touched Michael’s ass, feeling the wrinkled opening, thinking how it’d feel when it gave in around his flesh. He was almost afraid of breaching his ass, afraid that he’d hurt Michael and pain would overcome pleasure and he didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t fuck Michael’s ass that night.

They didn’t have anything to ease the way, so when Michael pulled his head back after another wet, filled with tongue, breath-taking kiss, looking at him with wide eyes, Alex gathered all the spittle he could find in his mouth and spat heavily in his fingers, rubbing the saliva over Michael’s ass. He spat a bit more, noticing Michael was well aware of his actions, watching him all the while. Strangely, he didn’t want Michael to think he had any more experience than him in that matter. But he went on, spitting thickly on his fingers, until they were coated with saliva.

Finally, he pressed the tip of his index finger to Michael, whose skin resisted for a few moments before yielding in. The feeling surprised Alex – it was far hotter, slicker, far more maddening than he could ever have possibly imagined. He added more pressure and watched how his finger slowly entered Michael to the knuckle. Michael’s breathing was shallow and barely audible.

Alex withdrew his finger almost completely and pushed back in, noticing how it entered Michael more easily. He twisted and curled his finger inside Michael, hoping that’d make his muscles loosen up a bit more. The waiting wasn’t doing anything to soften his erection; on the contrary, his balls ached for release, his cock throbbed and he wanted to get Michael ready as soon as he could. So he quickly withdrew again, spat on his fingers once more and plunged two fingers inside Michael.

Michael moaned loudly, but covered his mouth with both hands less than a second after the sound echoed. Both of them laid still, half naked in the dark, Alex fingers frozen inside Michael, the two of them afraid that Whistler might wake up or get up or say anything that’d make them feel ashamed and regret having done this in the morning. But Sona’s corridors remained silent and Alex slowly began thrusting into Michael’s ass, pushing in and out, and moving in circles and with quick scissoring motions, until he felt that ass offered little resistance to him.

Alex took his fingers out and looked at his own cock, glistering in the dark. He spread all the amount of pre-come that gathered on the head of his prick, and the sudden touch nearly made him come. He bit the inside of his cheeks and tried to get a hold of himself. He tried to spit again in his palm, but his mouth was getting dry, so he looked hesitantly at Michael and said, “Can you give a little help here, Michael?”

He placed his hand next to Michael’s mouth, waiting.

Michael took a few seconds and then said “Oh, yeah, sure”, and spit heavily on his fingers.

Alex coated his cock with Michael’s saliva, and it felt warmer against his skin than his own. He put the head of his cock against Michael’s ass, looking briefly from his eyes to his stomach, and groin. He felt Michael twitching down there before he spoke.

“Go on, Alex.”

And he should probably get on with it, before the saliva dried and he’d have to lubricate himself again; Alex wasn’t sure he’d be able to touch his prick again without coming. For a moment, he wondered how the hell he’d be able to fuck Michael without coming, but that was only a second before he pushed his hips forward slowly, reveling in the feeling of his cock being squeezed in Michael’s hot, tight hole. He had never fucked an ass before for the very same reasons he had never been deep throated before – he had been always afraid of hurting the woman he slept with.

But with Michael, at that moment… It didn’t seem possible for him to hurt Michael with his prick. Because Michael pushed down on his cock, driving his flesh farther and farther inside him, because it didn’t seem that Michael could ever get enough of Alex. When Michael’s buttocks touched the root of Alex’s cock, his balls touching Michael, Alex realized it was time to move.

When he thrust for the first time, Michael locked his legs on his back, drawing him closer, and their chests touched and their stomachs touched and Alex could feel Michael’s cock touching his abdomen, pre-come or sweat or both dampening his skin. He pushed again, pulling his cock out almost completely before plunging back in. It was heaven. And thrusting became pounding and Alex was sure he'd never fucked anyone that felt so good, Michael’s ring tightening around him from tip to base offering him new and delightful sensations.

Michael was frantic; his nails were digging into his back, his breathing was as labored as Alex’s, he was frowning and he seemed enraptured. There wasn’t solely pain or pleasure displayed on his face. In fact, Alex couldn’t define exactly what Michael felt. Not that he would actually, becoming so lost in his feeling as he was. Alex didn’t know for how long they were fucking. It seemed a second and it seemed an hour. They were going faster with each second, and they weren’t exactly screaming but Michael moaned a few times, and the bunk was shaking a lot and Whistler probably would or had already woken up and noticed everything, but nothing else mattered besides feeling this way, seeing Michael this way, besides coming inside Michael and hopefully feeling Michael come on him again.

Orgasm took Alex by surprise. It was inevitable when it came, and Alex buried his face in Michael’s neck, pounding and coming and feeling his cock brushing inside Michael, as he poured all of his seed inside his ass, and it wasn’t quite over yet, but Alex knew he’d have to do it again really soon because it was better than heroin, it was better than Varatril, better than getting into the fucking FBI, better than chasing Michael Scofield… Now he had caught Michael Scofield.

He released a deep breath and raised himself in his arms. Only then did he notice that Michael had come too, his sperm sticking to both of their bellies. He looked around; if Whistler had woken up with their fucking, he was hiding it well with all the snoring.

He silently rose and found his clothes, folding them again. He noticed Michael doing the same. Only this time Alex took the mattress on the floor and he was so tired, sated and happy that he slept as soon as his head hit the “pillow”. He didn’t know how long Michael took to fall asleep that day. They didn’t kiss goodnight.

* * *

 

After that night, everything passed too quickly. They didn’t even have the time to feel awkward around each other because they didn’t spend that much time alone. The only time they did after that was when Sammy was trying to break through the safe door. They spent just a few minutes alone, and Alex wanted to kiss Michael so badly because he didn’t know if they’d survive and he just wanted to make sure he didn’t regret what had happened between them. He probably felt strange, different, eager to taste more of it, but not regretful… But they didn’t have the time.

It was when they were digging up their tunnel that Whistler approached him with a conspiratorial look and told him that if he decided he didn’t want to tail along with Michael after the escape, he should meet him at a bar in a certain square one day after they broke out. He didn’t answer at the time, and decided to let the matter rest for the moment.

Shifting in his hotel bed, Alex dimly thought that Michael almost set him up during the escape. Alex didn’t understand him, but that wasn’t the best moment to try. Luckily, he, Michael, Whistler and the McGrady boy managed to escape and leave Sona’s surroundings without being spotted. They didn’t talk about what happened in that cell when they were on the run. They couldn’t, obviously, due to all the company they had, but Alex had strong suspicions that Michael wouldn’t have anyway.

When they finally hit a safe haven, with Alex trying to help Whistler’s fake injury, Lincoln had one of his winning attitudes going on and decided Alex deserved to die for killing Aldo Burrows. It shocked him. He intended to part ways, stay hidden for some time and contact Michael somehow later. But all Lincoln held was stupid resentment. Michael pleaded for his life, he remembered quite well. But did he do so just like he would do and had already done for so many people or because he actually cared? Alex didn’t know if he’d ever be able to find out.

Alex took the first opportunity he got and left, running until he was safe. He sat on a bench at a square, trying to plan the next steps of his life as an international fugitive. Alex didn’t have that many options, so he remembered what Whistler had said to him and waited on the said square for some time. And Whistler did show up, escorted by none other than Gretchen.

Gretchen stood by the car when they talked. Whistler talked briefly about working as a team in order to steal something that was very important for the Company, and how that would make them rich or free, whichever seemed more important at the time. Alex didn’t answer right away and Whistler seemed to be in a hurry, so they agreed to meet again later at a bar in front of Banco Sol, within an hour, so Alex could give him an answer.

Although he didn’t want to have anything to do with the Company, Alex came to the conclusion he didn’t have other opportunities and he’d be pleased to piss the Company off a bit for a change. So when Whistler showed up at the bar and asked if he was in, all Alex could do was agree.

During the first few days working side by side with Gretchen and Whistler, Alex thought he’d bump into Michael sooner or later. Eventually, he did. That day was today and tomorrow he’d see Michael again. And what really struck him by the time that, feeling really tired, Alex fell asleep, was that he still didn’t have a clue about how he was supposed to act around Michael. Damned Michael Scofield. Always an enigma to him.

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to have written a sequel to this, but the show ended a million years ago (and, in my humble opinion, was almost total crap by the end of it) and the fandom kind of died, which is sad because I've met great authors and read great stories in this fandom.
> 
> I am not a native speaker, and this was my first fanfiction written in English, so it probably contains mistakes regarding the use of prepositions and weird phrasing.
> 
> Thanks for reading and for your time. Con-crit is always welcome.


End file.
